


Why They Existed

by lilithtorch2



Series: CA2TWS Speculations [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithtorch2/pseuds/lilithtorch2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These were the traits and emotions that fueled their existence: Rage and regret and fear sustained the revenant; guilt and sorrow and detachment fed the widow; love and faith and integrity guided the angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Revenant

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [MCU Winter Soldier Speculation (Seen From Ex-Soviet Super Assassins in Love tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/35584) by whothehellishistorymiss. 



> It's become hard for me to write about 1/3 of Steve-Bucky-Natasha without writing about the other two! Their histories are too connected.
> 
> I'm riding on another burst of creativity for Captain America movie fanfics again due to the Super Bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Misfits - Descending Angel

These were the emotions that sustained his existence:

When he fell, there was only negativity. Regret that he couldn’t be by his brother’s side. Rage that this was where his life ended. He still had a lot of fight left in him and now all of that would be wasted. He would never grow old with his brother, would never share laughter, would never know what it was like to really love, never… never… never…

When he woke up there wasn’t much he could feel. Fear, maybe. He didn’t know. He didn’t really remember much of anything. There were round-rimmed glasses and clipboards. And his arms… one of them glittered like the uncaring moon; the other was as dull as the room he found himself in.

When he woke up again he saw her and then, for a small glorious moment of his life, there was a light. The crimson was the fire still burning in his heart; the emeralds the peace he longed for.

Was that what it was like to love?

He never had a chance to find out. One minute she was here; the next, she was gone.

He was alone again.

He was alone, forever and completely alone.

Next time he woke up, there was only rage again. Emptiness. He wanted to scream but he was chained here and refused a tranquil, honorable death. He had a lot of death inside him but they still had a lot of use for him. They would keep using him until they were sure every last drop of life was drained from his sea-blue eyes, until he lost everything and became a skeleton of whoever it was he used to be. They had another request: red, white and blue stripes needed to be eliminated; they needed to be destroyed.

You shaped a century, the voice told him proudly, you will do it yet again.

What else was there?

When he found his brother he saw a descending angel raining down judgment on him. He was nothing but a sinner, after all. The name he heard begged him to repent and stirred something inside him in much the same way the crimson and emerald had done. There was a way out…maybe.

But when he heard that name pride mixed with sadness.

He didn’t want his brother to see him like this; he was supposed to be the protector, not the protected.

It was much easier to forget the brother, the crimson fires and emerald gems.

It was better to stay a revenant.


	2. The Widow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake Bugg - Seen It All
> 
> "Robot Boy" is pulled from the Linkin Park song

These were the things that fed her soul:

When she fled, there was only an opportunity. Sadness that she couldn’t take him with her. Guilt that this was where her life began, that it would begin without him. She still had a lot of death left in her and now all of that could be fixed. She would grow old, would laugh, maybe even know what it was like to really love, forever… forever… forever…

When she woke up there was a lot she could feel. Happiness, maybe. She didn’t know. She didn’t really feel much of anything. Well, she did but it didn’t feel real to her; not yet. And her hair, as red and volcanic like a wild flower, her eyes as green as grass was life she did not fully deserve. But she was shrouded in an eternal funeral gown. She had seen it all; she had seen enough.

When she first met him, for a small miraculous moment of her blank world, there was a dream. The blue was the water that cooled her fires, the smooth dark lines the joy she wished for.

Was that what it was like to love?

She never had a chance to find out. One minute he was there; the next, he was gone.

She ran.

Arrows saved her, hid her behind a shield; she remembered how she lived and lived and lived and the other died and died and died.

She was alive, forever and completely alive.

The next time she met him, there was only detachment. Emptiness. She wanted to help but she was chained by her guilt and denied the ability to hope. She had a lot of life inside her. They would keep supporting her until every last drop of life infused into her emerald eyes, until she gained everything and became a beautiful rose, what it was she could be.

Who is the robot boy, the voice asked her curiously, tell me how you knew him.

She tells the voice what he wants to hear not what she needs him to hear. What she never said was that the robot boy was not a robot at all; she left him behind, she let him fall. She was the one who ended up alive. And in place of the robot boy stood the revenant, its unmoving, lifeless eyes too dead to rain down judgment on her.

But when she uttered that name again she wept.

She didn’t want the boy to see her like this; she should have taken him with her, not fled.

It was much easier to forget the robot boy, the raven hair and blue eyes.

It was better to stay a widow.


	3. The Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linkin Park - Robot Boy

This is what guided him:

When he couldn’t catch his brother, there was only grief. Remorse that he couldn’t save him.

When he fell into the ice as well, there was only loss. Sadness that there was a dance he would never have.

When he woke up he was confused. Just confused. He didn’t know where he was. There were sounds and lights and movement and a Cyclops. And somehow through it all he still had his shield, his suit and this guilt, his emotions as crazy as the new world he found himself in.

He still had a lot of spirit left in him and now all of that would be used. He would grow old without his brother, would try to laugh again, would try to know what it was like to love again…maybe…maybe…maybe…

But there was no dance.

Was that what it was like to love?

He never had a chance to find out. She was always there, and in just one second, decades, centuries, she was gone.

He was alone again.

But not quite; the brilliant inventor had a son – how time passed – and there were crimson fires and emerald gems and arrows and hammers and glasses all by his side. He found allies, a purpose, something to do. He never forgot the fan who seemed to know everything about his past.

He had a lot of fight in him and they still had a lot of use for him. They would keep using him despite his objection that their world was operating on fear so he kept his eyes open. With wide eyes, this is how he saw the revenant. He recognized his brother cursed in black, red and silver and every lost drop of hope and love filled him up.

But how did she know the revenant, he asked the widow, what happened to him while I was gone.

She never answered him. She just insisted he was a ghost; whatever he wanted to find from the revenant was not there anymore.

What else did he want to know?

When he uttered the creature's true name he was forced to see what his brother had been twisted into. But he had faith that he could bring the living back from the dead.

He was everything he used to be again: the same scrawny mortal.

Yet the protected had become the protector.

He had never forgotten the dark hair and blue eyes and wide smile.

He would never believe that anyone was lost.

He would always be an angel.


End file.
